


The Hanging Tree

by letsgetbaked



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:48:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7347628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsgetbaked/pseuds/letsgetbaked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p></p><div class="center">
  <p> <img/> </p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>AN: The world and characters belong to Suzanne Collins. I do not intend to benefit from her creation in any way.</p>
</div>
    </blockquote>





	The Hanging Tree

**Author's Note:**

> AN: The world and characters belong to Suzanne Collins. I do not intend to benefit from her creation in any way.

It happened three months after my father passed away in the mines.

I was defenseless, crossing the border of starvation. My mother, she had been isolating herself from us as soon as we received the news at the Justice Building. Fortunately for us, they gave us a slight amount of money to make it up for our loss and it covered us for a month. But nothing mattered to my mom, for she wouldn’t talk, either care about Prim or I. She’d simply lock her heart and mind up in that sad, godforsaken world of hers, and it was quite clear she wasn't going to provide us some help any time soon. I told myself I was going to take care of Prim alone- to keep her fed, presentable.

But I’ll never forgive my mother for tuning out and leaving Prim the way she did.

Eventually we ran out of resources. We couldn’t afford buying food at the market anymore. The community home was possibly our last option, but I refused to lean on it and leave Prim without a mother either. Although we had already lost her, I couldn’t bear to put Prim through that much sorrow. She was dealing with so much at the time already when she was only seven.

The situation, however, kept getting worse. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her bony frame. It perturbed me immensely. She lost ten pounds in less than a week. It was insane. Lady helped her out a bit, though, keeping Prim relatively hydrated. But it wasn’t enough. I saw it in her eyes, the afternoon I ran away looking for help, that the gleam in them had worn out for good. Faded into a nondescript gray that resembled notably to my own eye color. But paler. Those bright blue circles disappeared. Forfeit. Not to mention the decrease of her ability to complain about how much her tummy hurt.

I was losing her.

Terrified, I got up to my feet and decisively trekked my way to the public market to sell Prim’s old clothes, but nobody wanted them. I began to feel desperate as I was judged, ignored, and even mocked. But I never gave up. I was intoxicated by my stubborn determination. And I did not stop.

And though I could’ve tried the same thing at the Hob, I didn’t. I was too scared to risk going there alone.

Hours later the rain began to pour. I could feel myself growing more and more exhausted. My limbs weighing tons. My clothes turned my bones numb by the amount of icy water pooled into them. I vaguely took notice of the smell of sugar and fresh bread lingering in the distance. My feet lurched hopefully across the muddy lane until my eyes located a trash bin. I knew I couldn’t walk into the bakery, they would send Peacekeepers after me. So I opened the lid silently to find that it was completely empty. It felt as though they had taken it out already. Maybe they thought someone like me would come, because in a matter of seconds I heard yells and insults coming right towards me.

My vision went blurry. But I know the owner of those yells was a woman. Most likely the baker’s wife. For as long as she intended to shove me off, I barely budged. And after pushing me away three, four, five times, she finally gave up and trailed back to get some shelter from the rain. Or maybe she just simply had to attend one of her costumers.

The next thing I knew was that I sat down under a tree. My best friend? Cold, bitter failure. The sweet embrace of its chilly fingers slowly taking over me ever felt better. I knew that if I died that day, at least I would feeling like I tried. I tried to save my sister.

The promise that I’d really lose Prim by the end of the day was unbearable.

I closed my eyes. Trying to picture that warm, childlike smile that I longed for so long. That blond mane combed in a simple bun, shining beautifully as the sun emanates through the window. The sounds of a contagious giggle filling the silence as a pair of blissful eyes capture the sight of my father. And peppy legs running excitedly to jump onto his open arms. She was so full of life... And the Capitol took that from her, from all of us.

They’re responsible for the disruption of that memory.

Shouting ringed my ears once again, bringing me back to reality. I thought the baker’s wife was coming back with new ugly ways to kick me out. And yet I remained still, my back pressed against the wet trunk, but my eyes opened and wary. I noticed they weren’t meant for me, which resulted even more confusing. No, they were meant for the boy with wavy, ashy blond hair who was carrying two burnt loaves of bread in each hand. I frowned. I saw her raising her hand at him and I knew that meant no good. Nothing stopped her from slapping his face, nothing but herself. She must have thought that was enough reprimand, for she disappeared again without taking any notice I was still there. But the boy… he turned around and strode until the edge of the porch.

I recognized his face straight away. Though his cheek was throbbing red, I knew who he was. We had been sharing the same classes together since elementary school. His name was Peeta Mellark. We weren't friends. We never spoke to each other, we weren’t even neighbors. And yet, he didn’t seem surprised to see me.

My stomach growled when I caught eyes on both loaves. I thought he was going to call on someone and let them know I was there, but no. He didn’t hesitate. After checking if his mother would come back hollering again, Peeta chunked one loaf in two pieces and threw them to the pigs. And with another glance, he tossed the other one in my direction.

 

* * *

 

A few days later I finally made it back to school.

Prim looked less famished and more hopeful. I, on the other hand, grew hollower. I couldn’t sleep at night. Why that boy ever helped me was one enigma I would never have the right tools to solve. I had that scene in repeat- how he threw the bread at me and made sure I picked it up before going back to join his family. I knew I could never forget it.

I wish I could say that nothing of that happened, because I hate owing to people. But without him, Prim would be dead. And so would I.

“Katniss?” Prim asked next to me while we were holding hands.

I smiled down at her. “Yes, little duck?”

“Who was it? You never told me who gave the bread to you.”

That was another problem. I knew exactly what Prim would do if she had that name in her hands. She would find a way to repay Peeta, no matter whether it would be publicly or not. She'd show her gratitude with a big smile, reward him with one of her herbal mixes she used to practice with my mother and then probably befriend him. And that was the scary part. I bet that Peeta as any other merchant in the district, found it disgusting to be associated with people from the Seam. So I lied. “It was an old woman in the market. She bought your clothes for bread.”

“But why didn’t she give you normal bread. Without it being burned? “

At that, I had no idea what to make up. I already felt bad lying to her in the first place. “Whatever, it’s done now. Would you have preferred no bread at all?”

“No, but-“

“But nothing then.” I cut her off and grasped her by the shoulders- holding her gaze warningly. “Please, promise you won’t be asking me this again, Prim.”

“But-“

“Promise me!”

She sighed and nodded apologetically. “Okay.”

After that, we separated. I felt incredibly horrible for treating my sister like that. But I had to do it. Otherwise, she would have insisted on making it up for the bread. I couldn't let that happen. And if that wasn’t enough liability, I also had to deal with Peeta’s presence in the classroom. I shot him a glance for a second, to see that his cheek had swelled up. My stomach lurched. Not from hunger, but guilt. 

I avoided his gaze at all costs. I wanted to get out of there, but I couldn't. I had to show Prim that the fight wasn't over yet, and that school was necessary. More likely obligatory. So I forced myself to shut down my thoughts, finding it extremely difficult to concentrate on the matters at class as the hours went by.

They felt like days.

When the clock struck five in the afternoon, it was time for me to collect Prim and head ourselves home. But then I saw him again, with his friends, across the school yard. My body froze as soon as my eyes locked with his.

In those seconds nothing mattered to me. It felt as if we were the only two people there. My blood boiled with embarrassment, my body prickled in a shiver. I wanted to thank him too. Not for only saving both of my sister's life and mine, no. For also keeping discretion before everyone else. But how thank him?

Whatever it was, the chance flew out of my reach when he turned his face to one of his friends. I dropped my gaze, crestfallen. And that’s when I saw it. A dandelion. The first one of the year. It reminded me of my father when I was younger. He'd take me to the lake after an archery lesson in the woods, and I would see all kinds of flowers, including dandelions. They were the brightest. They felt like a gust of wind blowing on a sultry summer day. Then it hit me. From that moment on I knew what I had to do to fend for my family.

And also my way of thanking Peeta.

I smiled. “Prim, stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Prim looked at me with her brow furrowed but she didn’t question me. She only stared quizzicality as I got on my knees to uproot the dandelion. I felt as if my dad was right next to me, whispering one of his lessons on how to be brave and fearless.

So I gathered the courage. I stood resolute outwardly but extremely self-conscious on the inside. And the looks on the other kid’s faces mirrowed my own state of shock and wonder. Though I kept making my way towards Peeta, trying to ignore all of them, unsuccessfully of course. At first he was blindly unaware of the fact that I was moving along to his very own direction, for he only looked curiously at me. But by the time I stopped before him and his friends, Peeta looked at me joining the expression everyone else had.

“This is for you.” I said, trying to keep my body from shaking as hard as I could.

He raised his eyebrows. “Wha- What?”

“Here.” I handed him the dandelion, and he took it. Examining it nervously.

Peeta stared back at me, incredibly puzzled. "But why?"

"Because it was about time."

And leaving the response resting on his lips, I ran away from the place, with Prim’s hand clutched tightly to mine. Without looking back.


End file.
